


Somebody Else

by Haunted_Obsidian



Category: Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Human AU, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Relationship, cliche but I don't care, meetings on a train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:18:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_Obsidian/pseuds/Haunted_Obsidian
Summary: Two men with vastly different pasts meet on a train, forging a friendship along the way.





	Somebody Else

Thor steps up to the platform as the train approaches. He adjusts the messenger bag that’s on his shoulder, and boards it. It’s surprisingly full for being so late, and it takes a moment for him to find a an open spot. It’s an isle seat, but he’ll take what he can get. He’s nearly dead on his feet, and just wants to sit down. 

It’s not until he actually approaches the seat when he realizes someone is occupying the one next to it. He hesitates for a moment. The man sitting there has long, black hair, his pale face transfixed on the scenery outside. He’s clutching a black backpack to his chest like it’s his lifeline; pale, slim fingers bone white as their grip gets tighter as the seconds tick by. He looks as though he’s been crying, eyes red-rimmed with a touch of puffiness. 

“Excuse me,” Thor says, voice low and gentle. “Is this seat taken?”

The other man flinches at the sound of his voice, and murmurs a quick, “No, sorry,” before scooting as close as he possibly can to the window, bag still clasped between his fingers.

“Thanks,” Thor says with a courteous smile and sits down, setting his messenger bag on the floor between his feet. He makes sure to keep his distance and movements to a minimum. It’s clear that the other man is upset, and he doesn’t want to further distress him. He sits back, folding his arms over his chest and closes his eyes for a moment, but quickly opens them again when he hears the other man sniffle. He tries his damnedest not to, but his eyes betray him (as they usually do), and he begins to study him further. 

He’s wearing a dark green hoodie that’s seen better days. The material is threadbare at best and hangs on the man’s thin frame. His legs are drawn together, only highlighting his bony knees through the black jeans that are at least two to three sizes too big. 

Thor wonders if they had actually fit him properly at one point in time. 

He’s also shaking. His movements are slight and barely noticeable, like a spider trying to stay hidden from sight. His face is masked now by the wavy black hair that runs a few inches past his shoulders. 

Thor glances out the window beyond him, watching as a thunderstorm crackles above the fading lights of the city. Tiny droplets of rain catch on the window, one after the other cascading down the glass and falling to the track below. 

He’s kept his mouth shut as long as his brain will allow, and finally, “I love the rain,” comes spilling out. He doesn’t understand why he feels such a need to speak to the other man. He _is_ a complete stranger after all, but something about the utter sadness that’s radiating off his person won’t allow Thor to leave him be.

 _No one should be so distraught,_ Thor thinks as his words fall on what feels like deaf ears because the dark-haired man shows no signs of hearing him. 

Thor’s not one to give up though, so he tries again. 

“I’m headed to Wigan. My brother rang me this evening and informed me that I’m officially going to be an uncle in a few hours.” Thor chuckled lowly at that. “I still can’t believe it really. It seems like just yesterday he graduated from uni. He’s younger than me by four years. Name’s Balder. After all this time, I still haven’t been able to figure out why our parents named him that. I mean, he _was_ quite a bald baby. I don’t think he received his first proper haircut until he was at least five,” Thor recalls, laughing still. “Hell, after having a child of his own, he probably won’t have any hair left.” He pauses for a moment, glancing at the other man, looking for any indication that he’s listening to his ramblings. The other man is still pressed as far away as possible, not having moved a muscle. “I’m Thor, by the way,” he continues on, and reaches his hand out towards the dark haired man. 

He waits for a few seconds before letting his hand fall back down to his lap and sighs. Maybe he should just shut up and catch a nap before all the excitement that’ll be awaiting him. It has been a long day after all. 

He folds his arms back over his chest and leans back in the seat again. He’s almost drifted off when the smaller man next to him clears his throat and murmurs, “L-Loki. M-M-My name is Loki.” His voice is soft and barely audible over the din of the train, but it draws Thor’s attention. He opens his eyes, and Loki is partially facing him now, the right side of his face still shrouded in shadow and raven colored hair. There are remnants of tear tracks on his gaunt cheek, and Thor’s more than positive that there’s a large, bruise ensnaring the man’s thin throat and snaking up along his jaw. 

Someone has hurt this man, that much is evident. 

Thor can feel the anger rising in the pit of his chest, but he pushes it down almost immediately. He’s pretty sure the last thing the smaller man needs is to see that.

“It’s nice to meet you, Loki,” Thor says with a small smile, carefully holding his hand out again. 

Loki eyes it warily for a few seconds before returning the gesture. His sleeve rides up as he does, showcasing a ringlet of bruises around his skeletal wrist. 

Thor pretends not to notice and shakes his hand as gently as possible. The contact lasts for a few seconds at most, and then Loki’s hand is back, gripping the backpack he’s using as a shield of sorts.

“Are you heading to Wigan as well?” Thor asks, sitting up a little straighter.

Loki’s quiet for a moment, green eyes cast down on his lap. Finally, he nods, wiping his eye as more tears fall. 

Thor’s always been bad at thinking before he speaks, and inevitably, “Are you alright?” comes tumbling forth from his lips.

Loki nods again before murmuring, “Yes, now-now I am.” He sniffles once more, and Thor wants badly to wrap his arms around him and hold him until he calms down. His mother has always told him that while he can be a comforting presence, he can’t just crowd someone’s space like an oversized puppy so he tries an alternative method.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? I know I’ve got something in this bag,” Thor says, beginning to reach down before Loki halts his movements. 

“No, I-I’m okay for now. Thank you,” he responds, voice still making Thor strain to hear it. 

“If I’m bothering you —“

“You’re not,” Loki cuts him off, glancing at Thor and offering up a pained, shy smile. Thor can see most of his face now, and is saddened to realize that he was right and then some. Aside from the large, hand-shaped bruise, he sees that the other man is also sporting a black eye and a split lip. There are also many a scar decorating his pale face.

 _How could someone hurt such a beautiful creature?_ , Thor wonders, and for a second, he’s afraid he’s spoken out loud. Loki clears his throat again, and Thor is now aware that he’s been caught staring. 

“You’re married?” The other man’s quiet voice comes as a surprise, and Thor raises his brow at the inquiry. It takes a moment for the question to sink in, and he glances down at the plain gold band, a wistful smile spreading across his lips. He starts to play with it before he responds, suddenly finding his throat constricting. He clears it, and says, “ I was. She, um, she passed away a few years back and I just haven’t been able to take it off. It’s never felt right.” 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to -“ Loki starts, but Thor gently interjects. 

“It’s alright. It’s my choice to wear it, and you’re not the first person to ask.” He pauses for a moment, trying desperately to blink away the excess water in his eyes. “She was a fellow professor at the school I teach at. Beautiful, whip-smart; she absolutely loathed me at first. We couldn’t stand to be in the same room as each other, but then one day, I was running late for class and somehow got completely turned around. I hadn’t been teaching there long, and accidentally found myself in her room. She was in the middle of explaining some ridiculously confusing theory when I burst through the door like a bloody moron. I’m not sure what it was — the death glare she gave me or the way her voice sounded, but it struck me in that moment just how amazingly intelligent and gorgeous she was. I sat through her entire lecture, and to this day, I still have no idea what she was talking about.” He chuckles at himself, memories still flashing before his eyes. “Needless to say, I apologized for my idiocy, and managed to ask her out. We didn’t date long before I proposed. I still don’t know how I was lucky enough to have had her say yes,” he sheepishly admits, still fighting back tears. “We were married for five years before she — before she passed.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Loki says, voice maintaining its level of quietness. 

Thor nods in thanks. “She’s at peace now, that’s all that matters.”

Silence passes between them for a few miles, the rain beating a steady cadence on the window as the train makes its way along the track. 

There’s movement out of the corner of Thor’s eye after a few minutes, and his gaze lands on Loki once more. He’s finally let the death grip that he had on the backpack lessen, using a hand to nervously tuck his hair behind his ear. His mouth moves as to say something, but he catches himself and briefly glances over at Thor. His eyes are the brightest green Thor’s ever seen, and there’s an ocean’s worth of unshed tears dancing in them, threatening to spill onto his cheeks. Loki holds his gaze for a beat, studying him before his eyes return to their position on the back of the seat in front of them. 

“I too understand loss,” he says, and there’s some hidden emotion in his tone that Thor can’t quite pinpoint. Loki’s brow is drawn as though he’s suddenly become overwhelmed with anger and he’s biting his bottom lip so hard that Thor’s sure he’s going to draw blood; but the tears that were being held back finally spring forth like water through a disintegrating levy and stream down his cheeks. He painstakingly unzips the bag on his lap, lowering the sides enough so that Thor can see what it contains. 

He immediately recognizes it as an urn, and empathy for the other man floods through his veins. He stays silent though, because Loki finally manages to find his voice again.

“I’m really not quite sure what I’m doing, to be totally honest with you,” Loki admits, sending another quick glance Thor’s way. His voice is as unsteady as his hands, and it’s clear that he’s struggling. 

Thor remains quiet, offering a patient ear.

“We’ve - were,” he catches himself, “together for almost twelve years, and married when it became legal.” He pauses, taking a breath as he fidgets with the zipper on the bag. “He died of a heart attack three days ago.” He’s silent for a moment, still unable to meet Thor’s gaze. “He was in the middle of - _this_ ,” he forces the word through his lips as though it were a piece of glass, gesturing to his neck and face, “And all of a sudden, his eyes got wide, he grasped his chest, and the next thing I knew, he was gone.” He sniffles and wipes a few tears from his cheeks. “I know you must think me crazy for being with someone like that,” he says, and glances over at Thor, eyes searching for some sort of judgement though there is none. “He wasn’t always…didn’t always behave that way. I was quite good at pushing his buttons…” His voice drifts off, like a wave in the ocean, and silence falls between them again. 

“Was he from there? Wigan?” Thor asks, not wanting to let his anger towards Loki's former spouse make the conversation die. There’s something about the other man that he finds truly captivating, and he just can’t find it in himself to find out more about him.

Loki nods in response to Thor’s question. “His mum isn’t in the best health, and I didn’t feel right keeping them… _him_. My sister works at a mortuary, and managed to get it done in a rush. I promised his mum I’d bring them straight away,” he explains, still shaking hand zipping the bag back up. He stares at it for a moment, and his eyes glaze over with more unshed tears. 

“That was a nice thing for you to do. I’m sure she appreciates it.” 

Loki nods once more but still appears lost in thought. After a few minutes, he apologizes again. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice breaking, “I didn’t mean to unload all of this on you.”

“No need to apologize,” Thor replies, laying a gentle hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. Surprisingly, he doesn’t jerk away, but his muscles do tense underneath Thor’s fingertips. “I learned long ago that talking about things helps tremendously. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told to shut up.” That statement earns him a quiet but honest laugh from the other man, even as tears continue to trickle down his cheeks. “I was on the phone with my mum awhile back, and wondered why she wasn’t responding back to me. I started to panic, and then the next thing I know, I get a text from my dad. It was a picture of my mum, fast asleep with the phone still in her hand. I have yet to live that down, and get reminded of it every chance they get.” 

There was more quiet, contained laughter from the man sitting next to him, and it was one of the most beautiful things Thor has ever heard. He can’t help but wonder what he’d sound like without restraint. He hopes that he’ll get the chance to find out one day.

Conversation ebbs and flows between them as the train continues on, and though he doesn’t learn much — his older sister’s name is Hela and he’s originally from Norway, but his family moved to England when he was three — he learns enough to know that he wishes to see Loki again. 

The rain has slowed to a trickle as they pull into the station. The lights surrounding them are bright, a contrast from the dim lights of the rail car itself. People begin to exit, but Thor can’t quite make his legs work yet. He reaches for his bag, but hesitates. 

“Would you —“ he stops himself, a hand sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Would you mind if I asked for your number? I’d love — I’d love to speak with you again sometime,” he stalls on the last word as embarrassment heats his cheeks, and he feels sixteen all over again. His gaze finally manages to leave the back of the seat in front of him and falls onto the smaller man. 

That same painfully shy smile graces Loki’s lips, and he holds out his hand. 

Thor extracts his phone from his pocket, and hands it to the other man. He watches as Loki carefully adds his name to his contact list along with his number and hits the save button. Loki gives him back the phone, but his fingertips linger on Thor’s warm hand. “Thank you,” he says carefully, eyes cast downwards, before finally glancing up. 

Thor smiles, yet unsure. “For what?”

Loki’s gaze drops again, and his voice becomes unsteady once more. “I had only one thing on my mind before… _this_ ,” he says, gesturing around himself at the train. “And you—you’ve prevented that from becoming a reality.” 

Thor’s brow lowers, uncertainty marking his tan face. “I-I don’t understand. What were you going to do?”

Loki reluctantly reaches into his pack, and pulls out a piece of paper. He stares at it for a moment before handing it to Thor. 

Thor glances at him as he takes it, carefully opening up the perfectly creased edges. Within the confines of the margins lies Loki’s elegant script, and Thor feels tears of his own well up within his eyes as realization dawns on him that this was a suicide note. 

“You’re not still considering—“ and Loki cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

“I’ve been in a dark place for a very long time,” he admits, “but tonight, you’ve shown me that there’s more than just that. You’re quite something, you know.”

Thor wipes a few stray tears from his face, and clears his throat. He jumps when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He gingerly folds the letter back up, but doesn’t give it back. “I _will_ call you, you know that, right?” 

Loki nods and sniffles. “And I will answer and hopefully, not fall asleep.”

Thor’s smile returns, tugging the corners of his lips upwards. His phones buzzes again in his pocket, and he playfully rolls his eyes. “Probably my dad. He said he’d pick me up from here.” 

“I’d better be going too,” Loki says, forcing himself to stand up. 

Thor stands as well, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. He leads the way off of the train, turning once he’s reached the bottom of the steps and holds his hand out to help Loki down. Loki accepts, and Thor can’t help but smile at the temperature contrasts of their skin. His hand is warm, whilst Loki’s is cool to the touch. He hadn’t thought of it before, but comparisons of the sun and the moon dance through his head as Loki joins him on the platform. 

He stares at him until a horn honking draws his attention away. He can see his father’s car in the car park, headlights flashing on and off. “He is the most impatient man I have _ever_ known,” Thor states offhandedly. “It’s not like he has a grandson on the way or anything,” and Loki laughs lowly at that. “I will call you, you know. I’m not sure when, but I will.” His tone is mostly serious now, though there is still a playfulness still weaved within his words. 

The horn honks again and Thor finds himself about to shout, but his intentions are curtailed when he finds Loki’s arms around his shoulders. His touch is feather light, and for reasons, Thor makes sure to keep his that way as well. The hug is brief, but it leaves an imprint on Thor that lasts even as they’ve said their good-byes and he’s finally in the car with his father. 

“Took you long enough!” Odin gripes in his ear, though not harshly. “Your mother has been texting me every five minutes telling me how far along Nanna’s dilated because she thinks that somehow, that’ll get us to the hospital faster.”

“Sorry, father,” Thor apologizes, though there’s still a remnant of a smile on his face. He can see the man side-eyeing him, and expects the question that follows the gesture.

“Who was that?” Odin asks, eyes finally back on the road.

“Hmmm?” Thor counters innocently.

“Dear God, boy, the person you were groping on the platform just a few minutes ago,” he prodded with a roll of the eyes.

“For the record, I was not groping, but hugging very politely, and he’s someone that I will hopefully get to know better in the future,” Thor replied honestly. “Are you alright, father? You seem awfully cranky. Do you want me to drive?” 

“Don’t get me started, Thor. You may be thirty-four years old, but do not think for a second that I won’t - “

Thor laughs as his father’s phone begins to ring, effectively quieting him for the moment. He wonders how long he should wait before calling the other man. 

It’s three days later before he finally gets the chance.

It rings three times before Loki answers. “Hello?” His voice is thick with sleep, and Thor immediately feels guilty. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he instantly apologizes, feeling foolish. “The last couple of days have been so hectic, and I’ve just now gotten the chance — “

“Hold on just a moment. I need to make a cup of coffee so I don’t wind up like your mother,” Loki says, and they both laugh. 

“So when can I see you again?”

**Part two hopefully coming soon...**

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I watched all the Thor/Avenger movies, I've had the itch to write these two. Hopefully, this turned out well enough.


End file.
